Sermons

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People of the 77
July 30, 2000
Third in a series on the parables of Jesus
Pastor Dan Baumgartner
Matthew 18:21-35  

This is the third week we will look at one of Jesus’ parables, the stories that he so often used to teach his disciples…or as Frederick Buechner says, “those little stories with big points.”  Today’s parable is part of a block of Jesus’ teaching concerned with behavior within the community of faith.  In this same block Jesus deals with the necessity and role of the church in confronting inappropriate behavior.  Then the need and effectiveness of agreeing together in prayer.   And finally, this parable of forgiveness. Let’s read now from the gospel of Matthew, chapter 18:21.

Peter asks a question.  It’s a good question, actually.   He’s thinking about how those in the church relate to each other.   And he’s thinking about forgiveness.  Peter says, “Lord, how many times shall I forgive my brother when he sins against me?”   Peter is already thinking forgiveness…not revenge.  Normally when someone hurts us, our first reaction is to desire revenge.   Lewis Smedes, who has written extensively on forgiveness,  says that one of the critical steps in the forgiveness process is “surrendering our right to get even.”  Sounds like Peter is already there.  But Peter wants some real guidance.  How many times?  How many times do I have to forgive until it is obvious that the person is not sincere?  How many times do I forgive before I am just enabling? 

Peter says, “Up to seven times?”  Seven is a lot.  In fact, it probably indicates that Peter has some idea of the radical sort of life that Jesus has begun calling people towards.

Peter, as far as we know, was raised in the synagogue.  Much of the teaching of the rabbis from this time period acknowledged the need to forgive three times.  First offense? Forgive.  Second?  Forgive.  Third time?  Forgive.  Fourth?  That’s it.  Enough is enough.

In fact, even in the Old Testament, particularly the book of Amos, there are several passages that reflect this thinking: “…for three sins of Damascus…yet for four I will not turn back my wrath.”   So Peter’s background, what his Sunday School teacher told him was “three is a lot.”  The law is ingrained in him.  But Peter knows that he is with Jesus, he’s being stretched with grace.  Jesus is rubbing off on him.  So Peter takes the three…doubles it…and then adds even one more:  “Lord, should I forgive up to SEVEN times?”   Impressive.  Peter has really learned.

But he’s still learning.  Jesus says “No, not seven.  But seventy-seven!”  Or in some versions of the Bible, “seventy times seven”…490.  Please don’t get sidetracked by that point.  The scholars and linguists can debate it for the next century.  It is irrelevant.  Jesus' answer is, in essence, “Not seven…but so many times you can’t imagine!  INFINITE.  And in fact, in asking to put a numerical value on forgiveness…you are asking the wrong question.”  Jesus is not saying, “therefore, on the 78th time, THEN you can hammer the sinner.”  He is saying, “I want you to be the people of the 77.”  Of infinite forgiveness.   And so he tells them this story, this parable.  And the interesting thing is that the story really does not deal at all with repetitious sin, nor with how many times to forgive.  It deals with the heart open to forgiveness.   The kingdom of heaven has to do with forgiveness. 

The parable comes to us in two acts,  one that we want to hear, one that we may not.  In the first act is the king who decides to settle his accounts with his servants, and is confronted with a man who owed him 10,000 talents.  Once again, the specific number is not the important thing.  10,000 was the biggest number used in the Middle Eastern number system.  And the talent was the largest unit in the Middle Eastern money system.

Ten thousand talents is like saying “a zillion dollars.”  This is debt beyond comprehension.  This is like reading in the paper last week about a corporate merger:  InfoNet bought Go2Net for 4 billion dollars…what does that mean?  It’s not even reality for ordinary people.  It’s more than the Gross National Product of most countries in the world.  That’s what 10,000 talents is.  For all intents and purposes, it is infinite.  If this servant was the treasurer or tax collector of an entire province of the Middle East, for example…the entire region controlled by Herod only brought in 900 talents.  This is debt that this man cannot repay…if he and his whole family were sold into servanthood, it wouldn’t make a teeny dent in the amount owed.   “Be patient with me…”  The man is begging.  He knows he can never pay, but he doesn’t even dare to be so presumptuous as to ask for the debt to be forgiven.  He will work for the rest of his life, and his children and grandchildren will do the same with the huge burden always on their back.  It is hopeless.

But.  The king hears the cry of the man’s heart.  And he “took pity on him,” he had compassion.  It’s the same word, the same compassion that the father had upon seeing the prodigal son returning home, “his heart went out to him.”  The same word that Jesus felt upon seeing the large crowd, “like sheep without a shepherd”; he had compassion…like Jesus, standing before the tomb of Lazarus, his heart breaking…the king’s heart also breaks, and he has compassion.  He doesn’t just give the man time to pay, as was requested.  He goes much, much further.  Way over the top, way beyond what was reasonable or even generous.  He forgave the debt.  Canceled, ripped up the IOU, no need to pay anything, you are free.  What a picture of forgiveness and grace. 

Let’s stop right here. Grace.  It’s where we usually stop.  Grace and forgiveness come as a gift, barely understood.  If this is a parable of the kingdom, we see ourselves in the person of the servant and God as the king.  We the ones trapped and burdened by life and pain and sin and separation, and God stepping towards us, even coming among us, even willing that his Son might suffer and die to restore our relationship.  If you are a Christian, at some point you have had an experience with God where you realized the cost to God of claiming you by grace, and were overwhelmed.  Basking in Grace.  End of Act I.

Act II isn’t nearly so pretty.  Inexplicably, the forgiven, graced servant becomes a wicked, consummate hypocrite.  He walks out the door of pure grace, and into the hall of harsh justice.  A colleague owes him one hundred denarii.     A denari was a days’ wages.

So a hundred days wages.  Three months pay.  Not inconsequential.  But by comparison…It took 6000 denarii to make one talent.  The man had been forgiven 10,000 talents.  That is, 60 million denarii…and he is owed 100.  Forgiven over 600,000 times as much.  And he harshly demands justice.  He wants what is coming to him.  And when his friend falls to HIS knees and begs with literally the same words he just used on his knees with the king, words that should sound so very familiar…they fall on deaf ears.  The friend is carted off to debtor’s prison; there is NO forgiveness.  And nothing happens until others in the community, distressed and saddened…go to the king and explain it all. 

There’s a voice inside me that says in anger, “How could he?  How could he be such a schmuck?  How could he accept such a huge gift, and demand such a pittance?”  But another voice in us says quietly, “I understand.  I, too, have received grace upon grace from God, yet treat other people with harsh justice.”  George Eliot said it like this: “We hand folks over to God’s mercy, and show none ourselves.” 

And the king is now rightfully incredulous and angry.  “I forgave you all that debt…shouldn’t you have had mercy on your fellow just as I had mercy on you?”  And seeing that the man dealt with others only by demanding what he deserved…he dealt with him accordingly, and threw him into prison.

And so Jesus teaches his community about forgiveness.  I think Jesus knew how difficult forgiveness can be.  Forgiving someone, asking forgiveness is difficult work.  Difficult to initiate, difficult to know if it has worked.  There are so many issues to sort out.  Forgiveness is not just forgetting something that happened so much as choosing to move on, to accept God’s healing.  It is not just feelings.  Forgiveness does not mean being open for repeat abuse.  Forgiveness happens inside of us first.  It is between us and God first.  It has to do with our healing.  It has to do with our thoughts and feelings being revised and changed towards the offending person.  It is the first step in, but not the same as…reconciliation.  But it becomes so complicated.  Do you forgive someone who never said they were sorry?  Desmond Tutu says if we do not, then we continue to be their victim.  If the person we forgive never acknowledges it, did it happen?   Forgiveness often takes time, regardless of which end of it you are on.  It can be a process.  All of these are issues which must be sorted out if forgiveness is to occur.

But Jesus’ parable is not about the specifics of forgiveness in different situations.  It is more basic than that. It is about our basic posture before God and other people.  The ability to forgive will only come from the recognition of how much we have been forgiven.  And this knowledge must change who we are, and how we live.   Forgiveness contains the power of transformation.  Jesus had absolutely no interest in a forgiveness that returned things to the status quo.  Jesus had no interest in this servant being freed from debt so he could go back to being a harsh old miser.  He wanted him to be so struck by what he received that he would extend it out to others.  Again and again and again Jesus calls the church to forgiveness.  In Matthew alone, it is taught in at least 10 different places.  Forgiveness is part of a kingdom that changes people.  It heals us, it allows us to reach out.   And so, Jesus says…be people of the 77.

I’ve said the last two weeks that parables often leave us with questions.  As I’ve lived with this parable this last week, God has taken my memory back to difficult relationships I have had in the past or present.  Have I offered forgiveness?  Have I sought forgiveness for things I have done?  Am I more concerned with being recognized as the one who forgives than seeing God change the relationship?  Am I aware that unless I am cognizant by the extent of God’s grace and forgiveness of me, then I am in no kind of shape to think of others?   The parable is for the church, for the community of faith.  Will the community of faith be transformed by  forgiveness?   How about here at Bethany?  Is forgiveness a regular part of our life here?  Or is unforgiveness a block to God’s Spirit moving? 

I have seen both happen through the years in other places.  At one church, two of the leaders could barely speak civilly with each other.  It affected much more than just those two people.  It affected the entire church.   Jesus’ parable forces us to stop and ask:  What is my heart like?  Is there someone even in this community who I feud with, who I ignore, who has hurt me but I won’t go and talk with, who has asked my forgiveness and I have been unable to extend it?   Is there someone still holding me captive by how they have hurt me?   Unforgiveness affects the whole body,  the whole community, not just two people involved.

 But the opposite is also true.  A spirit of forgiveness between two people speaks volumes to many others.  It allows God’s Spirit to transform.  I think particularly of our kids in this regard.   I am actually willing for our kids to see Anne and I disagree, or fight (Anne gave me permission to admit that one time we had an argument…it was a couple years ago!)…as long as they also get to see us come to each other, to apologize or talk through a misunderstanding, to verbally ask for and grant forgiveness, and move ahead in our relationship in love. 

We are the very people upon whom God has poured His grace.  If we harbor bitterness and nurse our wounds, if we are unwilling to forgive, and thereby to be transformed…we have nothing to offer the world around us.   I don’t think God has the slightest interest in perpetuating a community bogged down by unforgiveness.  God is interested in transformation. 

I want to leave you with a story: 

Elias Chacour is a Palestinian Arab Christian pastor in a village not far from Nazareth.  He found that his village was torn by long histories of conflict, conflict that set even blood brothers against each other.  Even the death of one family’s mother did not draw the torn family together, or even get them into each others' homes.  Yet around Easter, the entire extended family inevitably showed up in church, where they sat far from one another, unmoving and without making even eye contact.  At the end of one stiff  Palm Sunday service, Pastor Chacour gave a very unimpassioned sermon, so cognizant was he of the divided, indifferent congregation.  He invited all to stand and receive the benediction, he lifted his hand…and something exploded inside him.  He dropped his hand,  walked back to the only doors in the church, drew them shut, pulled a heavy chain through the handles and snapped the padlock.  “Sitting in this building does not make you a Christian,” he said.  “You are a people divided, arguing, hating, spreading malicious lies. What does the Moslem community around us think?  Surely that our religion is false.  If we cannot love the brother we see, how can we love God whom we cannot see?  For many months I’ve tried in vain to unite you.  I’ve failed.  There is someone who can bring you together, Jesus Christ.  So I will be quiet and allow him to give you the power to forgive.  If you will not forgive, we will stay locked in here.  You can kill each other, and I will do your funerals for no charge.”

Silence.  Tight lips, clenched fists, glaring faces.  Long minutes of silence.  Chacour knew he was finished as a pastor.

Then Abu Maubib, the toughest of the brothers and the village police officer, faced the congregation.  “I am the worst one of all.   I’ve hated my own brothers, hated them so much I wanted to kill them.  More than any of you, I need forgiveness.”

He turned to the pastor and said, “Can you forgive me, too, Abuna?”  (Abuna means “father,” a term of deep affection and respect, the first warm greeting Chacour had ever heard in that circle).

“Come,” he said, and they embraced.  “Now, go and meet your brothers.” And as his brothers came to meet him, a chaos of embracing and tears broke out.  People who had not spoken to each other in years wept openly.  Confessions were offered.  Invitations to hospitality were renewed, and people left arm in arm.

 I don’t tell you that story because we are going to reenact it here this morning…though we do have a chain for the back door!  Yet I imagine that in our community, there ARE relationships where forgiveness needs a chance to heal and transform.  Or perhaps it is in your family that the door needs to be locked until things are discussed and truth told in forgiveness. Unforgiveness is a costly thing.  It has ruined marriages, companies, churches, people.   And Jesus took it seriously.  Very, very seriously.  So seriously, in fact, that at the end of this parable, Jesus says…the kingdom will be taken away from the hardhearted.  And so, He says…Be a people of the 77, be kingdom people…postured for forgiveness.